


Pt. 1 - Underhand

by AmandaHuffleduck



Series: En Passant [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, snupin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-14
Updated: 2012-10-14
Packaged: 2017-11-16 06:32:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmandaHuffleduck/pseuds/AmandaHuffleduck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus is desperate enough to do something stupid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pt. 1 - Underhand

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published 2006 on the Lupin/Snape-Lurve-Community.
> 
> A loose follow-on from the Great Expectations stories.
> 
> Set somewhere between OotP and HBP.
> 
> (original) Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, they belong to J.K. Rowling and the bloated corporate ticks sucking sustenance from the body of her work.

_Remus, this is perhaps the stupidest thing you've ever contemplated…_

Remus Lupin, werewolf, sombrely regarded the small glass vial cradled in his hand. He watched the lurid purple contents wash viscously from side to side, then sighed, resolute. _One does what one must_ … Even so he hesitated once more before secreting the item within his robes. Lupin glanced at the clock, straightening his shoulders: the other members of the Order would be here momentarily. Time to put the kettle on…

~oOo~

The meeting at Grimmauld Place was concise for a change; reports delivered without preamble or an abundance of emotion. There was nothing momentous to recount – some small losses, some small gains – _status quo_ in fact.

Lupin outwardly gave his polite attention to everyone who spoke while quietly studying his compatriots. Young faces, old faces, care-worn, determined: many respected, some loved, some… not. He let his gaze slide past the surly potions master glowering from the edge of the circle to linger on Tonks. The young auror caught his eyes and winked. Her hair was still a shocking pink but it suited her, admittedly and Lupin smiled. He could've kicked himself at the sudden warmth in her expression: how long had he been trying to gently dissuade the girl? Remus allowed his smile to become polite and distant, and then he looked away.

The meeting adjourned and everyone left, some members thoughtfully bestowing a few quiet words of encouragement on Lupin before they disappeared back to their own lives, their own tasks. Remus was guiltily grateful when Tonks did nothing more than wish him luck and peck a kiss on his cheek. His pleasant expression faded though after the young witch had left the house. Tonks deserved someone better than him, someone more amenable to her charms. 

"Amazing." As always, Snape's sarcastic drawl cut across the room like a whip. "She went a whole hour without knocking something over."  
Lupin smiled tightly, making it clear he thought the comment… unhelpful.  
"You wanted a word?" The black-robed wizard both looked and sounded impatient.  
"Ah, yes. Thank you, Severus. Tea?"

For a heart-stopping instant Remus thought the offer might be refused, but he kept his face pleasantly neutral, as if it wasn't important, just tea. Snape gave him a hard look then, thin lips compressed into an even thinner line, nodded curtly. 

"But be quick about it. I don't have all night."  
Remus merely smiled.  
"I'll be back in a moment."

Alone in the kitchen Lupin readied the teapot before setting the water in the kettle to boil with a tap of his wand. He tipped the water into the battered pot, sniffing appreciatively at the fragrant steam before closing the lid. He'd chosen the strongly aromatic blend not because he had any particular liking for it but because he wanted to lessen the chances of his guest noticing anything amiss before he'd ingested the potion. Remus had been assured that the purple liquid would be tasteless, colourless and odourless when mixed into a beverage but Snape wasn't a potions master simply because he kept his Guild membership up to date.

Remus' could sense the tremors in his fingers but there was calm to be found in the ritual of tea making and so he managed to pour without spilling. He glanced furtively over his shoulder towards the kitchen door, making sure he was still alone before retrieving the vial from his robes. Even then at the last moment he hesitated. This was despicably sneaky and underhand but… his life was so uncertain and he'd wanted this for so long.

As promised, the purple stirred to nothingness in the dark liquid, save for a flare of gold before it finally, completely, disappeared. Smiling with a benign mildness that belied his inner turbulence, Remus carried the cups through to his guest.

Snape had claimed one of the less dilapidated armchairs and he sat at his ease, one long leg crossed comfortably over the other, his forearms resting lightly on the fraying armrests. He was scowling though, still impatient, and he accepted his cup without thanks.

"Well?" he demanded as Remus settled himself in the chair opposite.  
"Well…" the werewolf prevaricated, concentrating on smoothing out a persistent wrinkle in his robes, stalling for time while carefully not watching to see if Snape bothered to drink his tea. "As you know I'm heading to Morocco tomorrow…"   
" _And_?" the cup still hadn't moved.  
Remus licked his lips nervously.  
"And, I was wondering if there was anything I could bring back for you?" The werewolf winced inwardly; that was… inane. He should have given more thought to this aspect of his scheme obviously. Snape raised an eyebrow.  
"Very kind, I'm sure, but thank you, no." He drawled. "Was that it?"  
"Essentially." Lupin smiled mildly, pretending to be unaffected by the look of withering scorn. He sipped his own tea, thinking mournfully that he might as well resign himself to the galleons wasted; Snape was pissed off enough to just leave without touching his drink. _Ah well, better luck next time, Remus…_

Except… the potions master was lowering his cup from his mouth, and there was a look of disbelief creeping over his face. Remus' heart skipped a beat. Had Severus taken a mouthful or had he simply noticed his drink was tainted?

"What have you done?" the words grated harshly into the silence. Remus stared at the spots of high colour on Snape's sallow cheeks.  
"I –"  
" _What have you given me?!_ "  
Lupin swallowed but answered as matter-of-factly as he could.  
"A – ah - a lust potion."  
" _I know that!_ " Snape barked, teeth bared. " _What was it called?_ "

Remus flushed somewhat guiltily. He'd asked for and been provided with a lust potion, he hadn't asked for details. He trusted the supplier though: Dexturn was a scoundrel but he wouldn't risk poisoning his customers. 

The potions master shook his head angrily.  
"You don't know the name? _Fool!_ " he mastered himself with an obvious effort. "Colour?" he snapped. "What colour was it?"  
"Er, purple."  
"Light? Dark? Watery? Oily? _What?_ "  
"Bright purple, and thick."  
" _And?_ "   


Remus shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Snape was pinning him with the look of a teacher who knows a pupil has more to give and will hook it out of his thick head by sheer force of will if necessary. 

"It flashed gold before disappearing."  
Snape slumped in his chair, and Remus saw something like despair or defeat in the dark eyes.  
" _Libero_." He muttered, wiping a long-fingered hand over his mouth. "Bloody, _sodding_ , hell…"  
"Severus, I – "  
"Don't you _dare_ apologise!"

Before he could blink Snape was in front of him and he was being hauled to his feet.

"You wanted this, Lupin, you _arranged_ it," Snape snarled into his face, his hands twisting in Remus' robes, drawing the material tight around his neck. He shoved him away. "Upstairs." He growled. "This is humiliating enough without someone stumbling in on our… _tryst_." His lips curled on the word and Lupin was quite sure that in that moment Snape had never loathed him more.

Remus wasn't afraid of pain, he didn't enjoy it or welcome it, but after years of enduring his monthly transformations the prospect of being hurt had no power to scare him. Snape was going to hurt him though, no doubt - he thought grimly as he trudged up the stairs to his room on the second floor – and he probably deserved it. 

He pushed open his door, all too aware of the man at his back, close but not touching, his breath grating harsh and loud through uneven teeth. The curtains were open and the light from the waning moon pushed weakly through begrimed windows.

"Face the wall. I don't want to look at you." 

Aside from the door – now closed and warded – the only area of clear wall in the room was beside the bed, between a mouldering chest of drawers and a mismatched, heavy bookcase. Shivering with apprehension, Remus did as commanded even as a small internal voice, the last remaining shred of his pride, berated him for submitting so meekly.  
 _Turn! Fight! Escape!_

… no. The werewolf brought his forehead to rest against the wall, too tense to feel his usual vague disgust at the always-damp wallpaper peeling away from the spongy plaster. He would not fight something he'd initiated; he could take some small comfort in his willingness to admit mistakes. He froze as his arse was unceremoniously bared to the feeble moonlight.

"How long has it been, Lupin?" Snape's voice was cruel and dark in his ear.  
"Long enough…" _Too long_. Remus flinched at the unsubtle probing between his buttocks, then forced himself to relax and remain still. It was an effort though and try as he might his chest heaved with combined anxiety and the anticipation of pain.  


Before Remus could ready himself his feet were kicked further apart; he heard Snape spit and then he was gasping, unable to breath as his lower body was consumed by fire. 

The first thrust was hard and sharp, a punishment. Against the wall, Remus' hands curled into fists, strong, short nails digging into his palms, a minor counterpoint of pain and not nearly distracting enough. Eyes closed he breathed through his nose, willing himself to ride out the searing ache.

There was a moment of utter stillness, and then Snape moaned, a sound of pure carnal delight, a sound that shot straight to the werewolf's balls. Despite the pain – or perhaps because of it; the threads were tangled now in Remus' mind – his cock stirred for the first time during this encounter. Snape pulled back, slowly, then shoved forwards again, grunting in surprise as Lupin pushed back to meet him. He slid his hand over the werewolf's hip, long fingers wrapping around a swelling tumescence. 

"You're depraved." He sneered, stroking firmly. "Is it the pain? Or do you just like to be _forced?_ "  
"You're talking too much." Remus grated. He angled his pelvis as he pushed back once more, wanting, determined to wring that sound out of Snape again.

_Success!_ Remus grinned wildly, his visceral pleasure in the potions master's deep groan almost letting him forget the bitter circumstances.

"I _hate_ you…" The words were venomous but the pressure around his cock was perfect.

Moaning as he gave in to sensation, Lupin rocked his hips between the warm, strong fingers in front and the solid flesh spearing his behind. He sped up, a quiet desperation fuelling his movements. He didn't entirely trust Snape to not remove his hand, to rob him of this unexpected pleasure. The thought was unbearable but his… companion didn't seem inclined to do that, if anything he was actively masturbating him now while Remus braced himself against the wall, palms spread flat for balance. Snape's free hand crept across his body, coming to rest over his chest as agile fingertips sought and found and circled a nipple stiffening beneath his robes. Remus couldn't speak; lips parted, he dropped his head back, the curve of his skull connecting lightly with Snape's bony shoulder. 

_"I hate you… hate you…"_   
Meaningless words, the tone of delivery was far more important: anger and desire and something else Remus didn't currently have the higher brain functions to analyse. He jerked at the unexpectedly gentle touch of lips on his neck. _Snape was kissing him_ … and with the realisation came an equally unexpectedly powerful climax. Shuddering with the intensity Remus spilled over Snape's fist, unable to stop his sharp exclamation of delight. He felt the potions master stiffen behind him, thin arms tightening convulsively around his body before registering the spurt of warmth pulsing deep in his arse. And then before he could fully comprehend what was happening he was empty and cold and alone. Snape was leaving, the swirl of his black robes creating a murmur of air that brushed over Remus' bare buttocks and chilled the fluid dripping down his thighs. 

The door clicked shut again and Remus, who'd remained upright through determination alone, sank to his knees. Trembling with the aftershock of orgasm and suppressed anguish he pressed his cheek to the wall and closed his eyes. Severus had left without saying anything – not one word – as if none of this had happened. Remus' mouth twisted on bitterness. What had he been expecting? A sudden declaration of love? _Fool_ …

Weary and depressed he touched his neck, caressing the spot where Snape's lips had lingered. _Twice a fool_. By trying to coerce the desired reaction he'd more likely extinguished any chance he'd had. Remus sighed, and wincing, forced himself to his feet. It was late, he should clean himself up then get some sleep. He had a long way to go tomorrow…

~oOo~

Almost four weeks later, dirty, dishevelled and with a recent transformation a lingering ache in his bones, Remus apparated back to Grimmauld Place. He dropped his battered suitcase with a thankful sigh and contemplated his options. He should contact Albus and let him know he'd returned but… The need to be clean just barely won out over duty and the werewolf headed up to the bathroom with only a smattering of guilt. 

Remus sank into the steaming water up to his chin and exhaled a month's worth of tension. He'd made it back but it'd been hairy. He didn't begrudge what he did for the Order, never that, but sometimes he thought it would be pleasant to not have to do anything. Just for a while. He smiled humourlessly to himself; who was he kidding? Sirius had been forced to do nothing and he'd gone mad. Mind you, he'd been half-mad to start with so… 

Remus forced his mind away from his vanished friend and turned his attention instead to a subject that wasn't much less painful. He'd deliberately not thought about Severus these past few weeks. He'd needed to stay focused and positive, couldn't let himself be distracted by… personal problems but now, alone and relaxed for the first time in days, Remus finally gave himself permission to brood.

Yes, he'd cocked-up spectacularly, one of his finest efforts yet, and unfortunately he couldn't see any way back. Severus - never the most trusting of people to begin with – now had another very good reason to trust him even less. Remus gloomily contemplated his pruney toes floating just out of the water: the problem was, _the problem was_ , he'd never been very good at this _relationship_ thing. Being friendly, having friends wasn't so difficult and likewise he'd never had issues with friendly, no-strings sex, but romance? Romantic love? _Eros?_ Remus' smile was rueful; of course he'd not made things any easier for himself by hankering after a foul-tempered and sarcastic bastard who loathed him. After that impossibility was it any wonder he couldn't think of settling with someone who genuinely seemed to like him? Where was the challenge in that?

Maybe he was a masochist? Or maybe – and this was an uncomfortable thought - he'd subconsciously kept that flame alive for years precisely to sabotage any chance he might've had for a 'normal' relationship? What was that muggle phrase – 'scared of intimacy'? Remus sighed and reached for the bar of sweet soap that had hardened and soured in his absence. No, it wasn't intimacy that frightened him, it was rejection. But it was all academic now, anyway. He didn't want Tonks; he'd likely estranged the one he _did_ want with his recklessness and he was too old and too tired to think about starting from scratch and finding someone else. He had friends and people who valued him for whatever reason, that should be enough. Lycanthropy was a curse; loneliness wasn't.

After his bath Remus dutifully fire-called the Order's leader who promised to see him early tomorrow for a full report, but for now admonished him to 'get some well-deserved rest'.

Rest, yes. Such luxury to sleep for several hours in a row without needing to keep one eye open, just in case. That was something Remus had been anticipating for days but first there was a small bone of curiosity to be gnawed over. 

Even with the more obviously dark and dangerous books removed from the house there was still an impressive amount of material available, including several concerning potions. 

' _Libero_ ' Severus had named it and Remus now, belatedly, applied himself to research. In a satisfyingly short amount time he'd found a reference in one of the more modern works, one of the new style of books that catered to the current morbid interest in the dark arts but skirted the issue of illegality by not providing any workable details of the curses, potions and hexes described.

Remus scanned the entry, absently noting the name of the originator, the potion's physical properties, famous victims, etc: but had to stop and read the 'effects' note twice through before understanding dawned on a surge of adrenalin.

_"…will have no effect if the recipient has no reciprocal attraction to the one administering the potion…"_

Dry-mouthed, Remus read it through once more before closing the book with exaggerated care. Severus had definitely been affected, did that mean…? The werewolf took a steadying breath: did that mean Severus… was attracted to him?

Years of living cautiously and keeping his emotions under control stopped him from leaping up and doing anything rash like, immediately contacting the potions master and demanding to know the truth. No, no, no; he needed to think this through before blundering in where he almost certainly wasn't welcome. If it had been anyone else Remus could have said they'd had the past four weeks to calm down but this was Severus and he'd had four weeks to stew in acrimony. He wasn't one to let go of a grudge easily, Remus was all to well aware of that. The werewolf groaned aloud, sinking his head in his hands as yet another problem tapped him on the shoulder. An everyday lust potion Severus might have eventually been able to… well, not forgive, precisely but not take as a personal insult. Remus had – unwittingly, to be sure – given him something that'd forced the man to acknowledge an attraction he'd probably been denying, if not actively hiding from himself. You didn't need to be a Seer to understand that Snape was an obsessively private person. He kept his secrets close and heavily guarded, to be exposed in such a fashion would be insufferable, unless... Remus licked his lips. Snape didn't need to know that Remus had discovered the true effect of the Libero potion, did he? So maybe, maybe, he – Remus – could try to approach the potions master again, but openly this time. No sneaking about slipping nefarious substances in to the drinks. Remus shook his head ruefully: what had he been thinking, anyway? 

The one small advantage he'd gained from this fiasco was that Snape had to realise now that he had more than a purely professional regard for him. It wouldn't come as a complete surprise then if he found himself being… courted. Remus grinned at the old-fashioned but appropriate term. Yes, he would _court_ Severus and smile serenely while weathering the inevitable vitriol because he _knew_ the potions master's secret. But he wouldn't betray that secret, no. He would prove himself worthy of Severus' trust and eventually Severus would have to give in and accept that Remus was serious. 

And then – Remus' expression softened - and then they'd see if they could find a middle ground. He only hoped he'd live that long…


End file.
